


Moral Compass

by tendecibels



Series: This Isn’t Freedom!au [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Death, In the this isn’t freedom universe, M/M, Murder, Mutants, Soonyoung is mentioned - Freeform, bc they have dark powers, descriptions of violence, seungcheol is referenced but not by name, superhumans, they are good guys but are hated by society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 02:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19938805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendecibels/pseuds/tendecibels
Summary: mutantˈmjuːt(ə)nt/adjective, nounsubgroup: familiae de tenebris1. a subgroup of the mutant race that possesses a selection of dark powers.2. A being with superhuman powers typically intended to cause death and destruction.“Chances are if you can see us, you’re already dead.”-Sinister. Odious. Dark. A simple collection of the words used the describe this young group of mutants, though, not entirely wrong. Their superpowers arising from evil, intended to wreak havoc and despair whenever used. A terrible curse on these ill fated teens, determined to prove that they weren’t who their powers said they were.(Or, aThis Isn’t Freedomspinoff)





	Moral Compass

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I’m back again with a this isn’t freedom spinoff got7 ver. This takes place at the same time as this isn’t freedom and in the same universe, some of the group know of seventeen but not personally, that comes later in TIF. 
> 
> Enjoy!

-

The first recordings of the _familiae de tenebris_ , quite literally, the ‘families of darkness’, were written about five hundred years ago, a century before the Mutant War. Five families, integrated with a series of death sense precognitives, dark energy manipulators and various other dark power masters. From very early on, these five families were outcasted, even more than typical mutants were, sent away from normal civilisation along with their descendants. Humans couldn’t be as great as mutants, so they hated them. The normal mutants just didn’t like what was different to their own. So they were truly alone, cast away by even their own race, let alone the humans. 

Over the years, this treatment grew their skin tough and resilient, led their moral compasses astray and they began to use their powers as they were intended. To cause death and destruction, mayhem and devastation. If they weren’t going to be accepted, they sure as hell were going to be feared.

In no way were the actions of the _familiae de tenebris_ acceptable, shape or form. They murdered those who hated, feared and loved them alike, they torched the young, took the lifespans of others, healthy or fit. Mutants were already hated, but the families made it worse by a tenfold. The decades of mistreatment was now reaching boiling point, the _familiae_ had had enough.

Their reign of terror lasted until the dawn of the mutant war, which was already inevitable, long before the ghastly deeds were commited by the _familiae de tenebris_. After the slaughter of the mutant race, the remainder of the families spread out to the corners of the world, and lived in the pretence of normal humans. Years later, all full blooded _tenebras autem resistis_ , translated to bringers of darkness, had died out, and all that was left were their descendants. Half bloods. 

-

A common trait of today’s half bloods, was necromancy, the ability to communicate with the dead, every single half blooded _tenebras autem resistis_ had this power, alongside another dark power and a standard one. A mutant existence was already a dangerous one, but as a bringer of darkness, your existence was almost pointless, being hunted by everyone around. So for a group of seven like this, hated for their identities and actions of their ancestors, hope was not a top priority.

Out of the seven, Youngjae was the only who actually cared about whether they were doing evil or not. Of course, none of the boys were inherently malicious, they just didn't give a shit about anything, their moral compasses teetering in both directions, good and evil. They didn't spend their time antagonising humans, and it's not like mutants hated them as much anymore, but they have taken care of a few troubles who came knocking on their door. 

-

#### Wang Jackson (Vex)

'dʒaksən/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Resurrection  
3\. Enhanced senses

_"I will always be back. Whether you like it or not."_

-

Jackson didn't even know he could resurrect _himself_ , until he quite literally got hit by a bus. Surprisingly, Jackson wasn’t that distressed when he died in hospital, surrounded by his weeping friends. He was distressed however, when he lingered. After his death, he was still there, present in mind but not body. Jackson didn’t know what the fuck was going on, at all. 

He was just existing in empty space, confused, until familiar voices began whispering to him. The ghosts, again. Jackson didn’t even know they could reach him in his post-death existence, but he does guess it makes sense for them to show up _now_. It’s then when a bright idea pops into his head, to try resurrect himself! (Helpfully supplied by the ghosts whispering ideas in his mind.) I mean it’s worth a shot, seeing as he was quite literally on his death bed, and he has pretty much nothing to lose.

Jackson felt a little stupid, though nobody was watching him, (aside from the ghosts he’s encountered) but he still felt a little out of place, attempting to resurrect _himself_. He was almost ready to give up and wait to die completely, when suddenly he’s transported back into his own body, and takes a loud gasp of air.

Jackson immediately whines, ignoring the expressions of shock and horror painting the faces of his friends, pulls his hand away from Mark’s that had grabbed onto him tightly, and pays no mind to the stupefied doctors that had officially pronounced him dead minutes before. “My side,” Jackson cries, clutching at his waist, much everyone’s disbelief. Finally taking notice, he looks around, as if it’s a normal occurrence to _come back to life_ , and tells everyone to either “stop staring, help me, or fuck off.” 

-

After his Frankenstein endeavours, Jackson resumes his habit of getting involved with the wrong people at the wrong time and becomes more reckless with his life. Way too reckless. This time, Jackson had wound up in the base of a small gang of mutants, unfriendly ones at that. 

Mutants. A dilemma. Being on the darker side of things, Jackson was a well known, much hated mutant. They were already despised and Jackson knows there’s no hope for a better future; he watched a guy in his old university get forced out of the school on the basis that he had superpowers, _Kwon Soonyoung_ , a name he hasn’t heard in a long time. It shocks Jackson to the core that Soonyoung wasn’t even a _tenebras autem resistis_ and still brought forth such hate. The world they live in. Then Jackson had to leave too, because it just became too unsafe, they were sweeping through the school, trying to flush out any mutants and Jackson can’t fathom what would have happened had they discoveres his status. This had happened before, but Jackson just didn’t think it would happen so close to him.

Guns are very cold, is the first thing Jackson notes when he experiences the delight of having one pressed up against his temple. He’s completely surrounded, men to his right, left and directly behind him. These are the moments Jackson has grown to live for, the exhilarating rush he feels when he ends up in a dangerous situation, the adrenaline that courses through his veins.

“Shoot me.” Jackson had a devilish grin plastered on his face, dragging the butt of the gun down his face, pointing it straight under his chin. His smirk pulls wider when he sees the hesitation on the man’s face, “Do it. You can’t get rid of me anyway.”

Jackson bathes in their confusion, basks in their sudden surge of confidence, them knowing full well that Jackson won’t survive a bullet to the head, and laughing at his bravery. They’re absolutely right about that, but their confidence is misplaced, seeing as Jackson will be back, they definitely _can’t_ get rid of him. Well technically speaking, they can, as Jackson can only resurrect a certain number of times within a limited time period before he’s dead for real. Never coming back dead. Jackson could never forget the warnings the ghosts whispered to him the day he first died, even if he wanted too. But these guys don’t need to know that, Jackson thinks.

Jackson hears the slight tightening of the man’s finger on the trigger with his keen ears, hears his pulse and heartbeat simultaneously increase, and Jackson knows he’s about to take a bullet to the head.

Dying was always, always painful, and he could never get used to it, no matter how much time he has to prepare for it. He remembers when he accidentally ingested a high dose of Imperidium, a poison harmless to humans, but lethal to mutants, he vividly remembers the pain he felt, and how he was almost gone for real. Jackson’s thoughts and preparations are interrupted, when the pull of the trigger never comes, he looks up, almost curiously, and sees that the man has lowered his gun.

“There’s no point. Everybody knows you resurrect.”

Jackson pouts, mockingly, before slowly turning around, his sharp nose catching a whiff of a noxious smell he knew all too well.

“Imperidium on your own kind, huh?” Jackson looks around at them all, after spotting a man with an open vat of Imperidium standing directly behind him, “That’s a new low.”

Jackson yawns exaggeratedly, checking his watch as if he has a schedule to keep, “Well, I’m getting a bit bored guys, so I’ll be leaving now.” Jackson’s giggles as the men take an intimidating step closer to him, “Or you could kill me if you want, but I’ll just come back. It’d be a bit inconvenient now anyways, wasting all of your Imperidium like that.”

Jackson skips out of the warehouse merrily, all the while dreading Youngjae’s impending lectures about how he “just can’t keep dying all the time.”

-

#### Park Jinyoung (Nightmare)

'dʒɪnjʌŋ/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Fear manifestation  
3\. Telepathy

_"I am your worst nightmare."_

-

Jinyoung had always taken joy in creating manifestations grown from fear, he just couldn’t help the fact that most turned out to be evil. Except that one guy who was deathly afraid of balloons, Jinyoung can’t forget the disappointment he felt when he’d conjured up a couple of _balloons_.

The operative had aggressively pulled Jinyoung outside whilst the boys were at a restaurant, instantly restraining him the moment they stepped outside and saying that he knew exactly who he was. Jinyoung was not having that. He was exhausted to the bone with all of these operatives who kept putting their hands on him. Within seconds, he had scanned his mind and found exactly what he was looking for, though he promised Youngjae to not use his powers in this manner again. His worst fear. Poor baby was scared of being caught in an accident. Too bad. Instantly, he had materialised a large, industrial van hurtling towards the pair at full speed.

He watched the operatives eyes widen with bone chilling terror, frozen in shock, and he basked in that look of horror, the feeling of revenge hitting him nicely, before he stops the van seconds before impact.

The operative physically relaxes, thinking the truck was just a mirage, a gimmick to terrify him into surrendering. Jinyoung hears his every thought, his confidence, and smirks, urging him to “Go ahead, touch it.” Hesitantly, the operative keeps one hand locked onto Jinyoung, effectively restraining Jinyoung, and reaches to touch the truck which seemed to be frozen in time. Jinyoung could feel the operative’s blood run cold, as he makes contact with the very real truck.

Realistically, Jinyoung could easily make a break from the loosened grip, whilst the government operative was caught off guard, but as sadistic as it sounds, Jinyoung is enjoying this little game, enjoying how he’s now messing with the one so willing to take his life minutes before. Turning his head as best as he could from his position against the wall, speaking in a steady, steely voice of warning, "let me go, and we both live happily ever after. Or, I could always let this truck continue towards us and we both die, only you don't have mutant friends to repair your life force."

He sees the operatives eyes widen at the prospect of death, before opening his moth to shout for help. Jinyoung sardonically scoffs, "We're the only ones who can see this. The only ones who will feel it too, they'll say you died from heart failure or something, and they won't find me. They won't care."

After long moments of consideration, urged by Jinyoung's fingers on the verge of snapping, he feels the operatives hands relax around him, before he attempts to sound threatening, albeit the shake in his voice gives him away,

"Leave. Don't let me catch you around here ever again."

Jinyoung scoffs again, amused by the audacity of the operative, threatening _him_ , when their lives are in the palm of Jinyoung's hands. As he destroys the manifestation, he physically relaxes, a manifestation that colossal hard to maintain. He sends the operative a wink before entering the restaurant yet again.

-

#### Im Jaebum (Abyss)

'dʒaɪbʌm/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Energy absorbstion  
3\. Teleportation

_"People like to compare me to black holes. a dark, endless abyss."_

-

You see, an angry Jaebum was generally not a very pleasant experience, and unfortunately, also a very common experience. Being someone with a very short temper, it can be difficult for Jaebum to stay calm in moments where need be, however, Jaebum likes to think he’s become pretty good at cooling down in situations he previously would not have been able to in the past. Jaebum can’t really afford to get as angry as he used to anymore, namely because of the superpower that decided to present itself at the worst time possible.

Being the most reliable and mature whilst living alone with your best friends came as a blessing and a curse. Often times, it showed up as a blessing, knowing that your friends have a special kind of trust in you, and know that they can reach out to you in any situation is conforting and makes Jaebum feel like he’s doing his job well, but there are other times, other times when they just won’t listen to a word he has to say, won’t acknowledge the solid advice he’s providing them with. Jaebum doesn’t _have_ to take care of them all the time, they don’t _have_ to live together, in fact, he was offered to take the entire group to permanently stay with an old friend who also had a group of friends who were mutants, but he kindly declined, he likes the life they are living and he enjoys being their pillar, but it just so happens that today, the day everything decides to go wrong, is the day Yugyeom and Bambam decide that they simply cannot act right.

Losing his entire three page essay due to a corrupted file ruined his day enough, but having the rain come crashing down during track practice, soaking his bag (which had his notes in it!), and the coach not allowing him to move it to the locker rooms added fuel to the fire. So when a frustrated Jaebum came home, expecting a nice welcome from his friends, and possibly cuddles from his lovely boyfriend Jinyoung, he was most definitely not in the mood for the youngest two’s shenanigans. Not at all.

At the time, Jaebum was not aware of his third power, and didn’t necessarily want to be aware, having the inkling of a feeling that his third would be something dark and sinister. Normally, it would take much longer to get Jaebum to the point he was at now, just from harmless teasing. The youngest clearly could not see how far was too far, playfully denying the things that were asked of them, and ignoring Jaebums words as if he were not speaking at all. Harmless teasing.

Jaebum’s reaction was not very harmless though. Yugyeom and Bambam finally seemed to get the hint when Jinyoung came to check on them all, and saw the state Jaebum was in. Words sounded like static to him, and phrases just swam through one ear and out through the other. Jaebum could feel the dents his fingernails were causing in his palms, from his clenched fist, and he was sure he’d draw blood soon. 

He barely registers the hand placed on his shoulder, trying to console him, when multiple things happen at once. The hand (Jinyoung’s) instantly recoils after almost being burnt by the amount of heat Jaebum was radiating, and Jaebum sees red. Sharply, the colour drains from the nearby couch, walls and table, supposedly going straight into Jaebum’s being. The beige of the couch instantly turns into a dull, lifeless gray, and the coloured walls return to a canvas like white. 

The smoke behind Jaebum’s eyes begins to clear, and he can barely grasp onto reality. All he knows is that he’s never been that angry. Limply, he falls onto the lifeless couch, it even feels different, empty and hard, suddenly drained of all energy, hardly surprising since Jinyoung just tells him that he just absorbed almost all of the energy in the room. 

When Jaebum wakes up the next morning, he already can’t stand the way the two boys tiptoe around him meekly, guilt ridden looks sent his way every two minutes, heads cast to the floor like kicked, dejected puppies. He decides to sit down with the boys, and explain that it wasn’t their fault, just to learn how to read the atmosphere a little better in the future. Jaebum also receives a word from Jinyoung, telling him that if they ever have repurchase their entire living again, Jaebum might as well move out for his own sake.

-

This ordeal happens again, on a much larger scale, a couple months later. When Jaebum leans that the gang Jackson decided to piss of that day have returned for a fight, he is not very happy at all. Would it hurt Jackson to keep a low profile for even two minutes?

They all start when they hear agressive pounds on their door at two o’clock in the morning, Jaebum sleepily padding out of bed to check who was at the door. He immediately awakens completely when he recognises them as the gang Jackson had been in a quarrel with recently.

Jaebum has half a mind to slam the door straight on the low lives’ faces, but holds his ground, telling them he would leave if he were them. The leader, the one who pointed the gun straight at Jackson’s face, scratches his neck sluggishly, calm and laid back. “Move out of the way, Im Jaebum, our business isn’t with you.” 

Jaebum straightens from his position leaning against the door frame, “Not a chance.”

-

He doesn’t know he he got here, but Jaebum is surrounded in a circle of bodies, the walls pure white and whole room dusted gray, his friends slowly coming to terms with the fact that they were not decimated too. The last thing he remembers was his friends almost all being killed and the burning rage he felt in the pit of his stomach, barely saved by the faded blue force field Youngjae had managed to conjure up.

“You absorbed their energy too, their life forces.” Mark explains that they were almost about to be murdered in their own home, when everything went silent, and the gang simultaneously fell to the floor like clockwork.

Jaebum’s new power was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

-

#### Kim Yugyeom (Omniscient)

'juːgyʌm/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Memory absorbstion  
3\. Superspeed

_"Don’t force me to look inside your mind."_

-

Yugyeom hates his dark power with a passion. A burning passion. 

He can't always control when he absorbs the memories of others, because it’s a power still developing, and Yugyeom wishes he never had it at all. It doesn’t exactly help that Yugyeom was not a very nosy person in general, and is typically perfectly fine without the juicy details, so having an ability like this was not in his best wishes, and he would really rather be without.

He was caught off guard when he figured out that he could also absorb the memories of ghosts he was in contact with. It’s this that makes Yugyeom despise his power so much. It was no secret that ghosts existed, and had a habit of lingering on earth, tortured souls who had died unjustly, or had unfinished business to sort on earth. So it came as no surprise that most of the lingered were from the dark age of the mutant war, human and mutant alike. The tortured, pained memories of those he absorbed stay with Yugyeom no matter what he does to try and distance himself from his power. Cries of anguish stay painted in his brain, a permanent image behind he eyes as he involuntarily recalls memories that aren’t even his own. 

It’s been a while since Yugyeom last slept at night.

Yugyeom guesses there are some upsides to it, how it never takes long for him to find out anything he wants, and how he can share the happiness of past experiences with those around him. It just feels like a breach of privacy sometimes, how Yugyeom just has an automatic, unwanted look into other people’s deepest secrets. Nothing hurts more than the obvious hesitation his friends have to touch him sometimes, for fear that he’ll pry into their minds again. It’s not his fault he can’t control it, and Yugyeom can’t help but be mad about it. He knows his friends are aware and understand, but sometimes it just doesn’t feel that way.

The darkest part of his power is the extent he could use it to if he wished. Emotional shock. His ancestors used it frequently, when they still terrorised the land of earth, a ‘fun’ way to switch it up when they were tired of murdering the humans. Only a handful of dark powers could inflict such a state in another individual, the likes of fear manifestation and the dreaded memory absorption. Emotional shock is a state different from the human definition, but one that mutants and humans alike can reach, guided by a select few _tenebras autem resistis_ , where they have been so incessantly emotionally traumatised, that they fall into a coma like sleep. A defense mechanism to stop the brain being put under anymore stress.

The effects can be deadly, a condition similar to that of post traumatic stress disorder, but often, the victim is transported to a completely new world, where they relive the same distressing event for what seems like hours on end, but in reality, is just a few seconds. The trauma can be absolutely paralysing. Why would Yugyeom ever want to do that to anybody, make them relive their worst nightmare over and over again? It would be debilitating, sadistic for him to even feel an ounce of joy performing such an odious deed. 

He’s done it before. Once before.

He was pushed to that point the same way as the others, almost in the fashion of a circular narrative.

None of them liked to talk about the time they were all tested on. The force had gotten word that there were mutants in the area, and were positively delighted to fight out they were of the darker chain. Being herded into an unfamiliar room by a dozen men all uniformed in the same monochromatic suits was terrifying to say the least. The room was as impersonal and overtly clean as the men’s suits, walls painted an opaque white, bare except for a long pane of glass that separated the group from a sedated man who was confined tightly to a chair on the other side. The man looked as if he had been through quite the struggle, his clothes were torn and the ends frayed into a forest of vines. His face was frozen in one of shock, like he had witnessed something extremely disturbing before being sedated.

The boys didn’t dare look anywhere else but straight ahead at the glass pane, for fear of the men directly behind them. To everyone’s right, Youngjae startles as he is manhandled along with the others to form a line parallel to the other room. They had all been injected with Imperidium whilst they slept, all of them except Yugyeom, preventing them from using their plethora of powers to escape their captors.

Soon enough, their endless questions begin to answer themselves. Standing aside from the line, Yugyeom is directed towards a door he never noticed before by a steely grip, and he can feel the cold metal of a gun pressed to the side of his head. He instantly stiffens. His blood runs colder as he hears the cock of another gun, and swiftly turns to see one of the men take his place at the back of the line, and holds the gun up to the back of Jaebum’s head. They all know better than to make any sudden movements. The unnatural set in all of his friends faces proves to be enough to make Yugyeom feel sick to the pits of his stomach, fear creeping up inside his throat at the thought of his friends dying.

Another member of the group of hostile men opens the door Yugyeom is being led towards, and he is quickly shoved inside, the click of a door lock sounding behind him. Confused, he looks around at the room, similar in emptiness to the one before, the only difference being the restrained man in the centre. Raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner, Yugyeom looks through the glass at everybody else, now realising the only man dressed differently from the others, stationed at a desk facing the glass, waiting expectantly. A Mutant Control and Containment scientist. Yugyeom knew it, they were being tested on. At the next words he heard, Yugyeom was positive his life was going to fall apart. 

“Send this man into emotional shock.”

Panic courses throughout Yugyeom entire body the second the treacherous request is made, but what can Yugyeom do, he’s already vowed to himself that he’ll never use his power to inflict such a level of harm. His first instinct is to deny the request immediately, backing away from the helpless man like he was going to cause more harm, but Yugyeom feels a hard surface behind him, and turns around to find the man who led him here behind him. His friends faces were contorted into those of terror and horror, multiplied when the man holding a gun directly behind Jaebum’s head speaks.

“I mean, you don’t have to.” Yugyeom and his friends don’t relax, knowing a hard catch would come into play, “But I could send one bullet through all six of your friends heads, then we’d force you later, and that wouldn’t be very nice, would it.” There it was.

The steely, emotionless expression on the man wielding the one machine that ensured all of his friends deaths, (except maybe Jackson, but Yugyeom doesn’t doubt that they have methods to make sure he stays dead) was unnerving to say the least. Yugyeom knew better than to watch his friends die indirectly by his own hand, but he also couldn’t send a presumably innocent man into emotional shock. His disarrayed thoughts are interrupted when the man behind him announces that he has five seconds to make a decision, and deep down, Yugyeom knows his decision was already made the moment he heard the order. 

He was going to send this man into emotional shock.

All Yugyeom knows is that if he does this, and his friends still die, he will kill every single person in this fucking room, mark his words. With a newfound resolve, despite the endless shaking of his hand, he lays his hand on the man’s soldier and whispers a quiet apology. Just before he commits the greatest crime he ever has in his own eyes, he raises his head.

“Can I at least know his name?”

Yugyeom sees everyone who was waiting in anticipation visibly deflate, and the scientist rolls his eyes before asking why it was necessary.

Mocking the words of the man was a dangerous game, but Yugyeom almost couldn’t help himself, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me. But then I would just refuse, you would kill us all and have no more _tenebras autem resistis_ to do your silly tests on and that wouldn’t be very nice, would it?” Yugyeom knows full well that his jeering pout at the end almost resulted in all of their deaths, but it also ended up in him learning the name of the man he was about to scar forever, maybe even kill. Yugyeom shudders.

After apologising to the man formally, by name, Yugyeom began his harrowing process. Just from the hand on the man’s shoulder, the influx of traumatic memories almost caused Yugyeom to black out. Some faded, and some loud and clear, but all of them painted a brutal image of a sorrowful, worthless life in Yugyeom‘s mind. He almost couldn’t tell if the blood curdling screams he could hear were his own or the man’s, he was so dissociated, but he concluded that they were probably a mix of both. The picture was something straight out of a supernatural horror film, the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and back arched as he lived through the same memories Yugyeom had only seen once, over and over again. Tears pour out of both of their eyes alike and it’s at this point Yugyeom knows he’s passed out.

Walking out alive was a miracle, but it didn’t really feel like one. Yugyeom never describes the things he saw inside of that man’s mind, and his friends never ask, the lifeless form they left behind an answer enough. He gets all of the “you didn’t have to do that” and the “I’m sure there was another way” but Yugyeom knows there wasn’t. The sacrifice was simple, it was them or the man. Yugyeom just didn’t realise his sanity had to be apart of the equation.

-

-

#### Mark Tuan (Puppeteer)

'mɑːk/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Dark energy manipulation/possession  
3\. Invisibility

_"I can’t control it anymore."_

-

Mark’s dark power was possibly the most bittersweet of them all, a blessing and a curse together. Being able to manipulate all things dark in energy provided Mark with great power, but with power comes weakness, and Mark’s greatness was disguised as a double edged sword. 

From a young age, Mark knew this could end up being too much for him, that this could overrun him in every essence of the word. Manipulating shadows was fun, creating pictures with the darkness was entertaining, and quickly eliminated his sense of fear. He would create beautiful black swirls out of threatening shadows, and mystical scenery with offending contorted shapes. Soon enough, a young Mark began to not mind shadows for what they were, and didn’t have to become imaginative just to sleep at night.

Unfortunately, harmless shadows weren’t the only things that stemmed from a dark source. Mark knew the voices he could sometimes communicate with weren’t all benevolent and just bored, and that some had intent to cause harm. All ghosts came from darkness and evil, regardless of their own character, but Mark always had a greater pull to those that were evil. He had the power to control them, he could manipulate them if he liked, and he knew they didn’t like that fact at all. That’s why for the most part, Mark avoided them completely. He knows his limits.

What most people don’t know however, is that a selection of deceased mutants could retain a diluted version of a power, that they could grow to become more powerful. Slain _tenebras autem resistis_ could use their ghostly forms to their advantage, exploiting the evil in their death to increase their dark powers, specifically dark energy manipulators. Mark knows he will become much more powerful when he dies, that he will be able to merge into both worlds as he chooses. He’d also be able to target other dark energy manipulators and bringers of darkness, specifically those who were still alive, and in essence, possess them.

Mark didn’t know _he_ was a target until it was too late. He had been warned by his parents and the old wise ghosts that occasionally visited, to be careful of the malevolent spirits who would kill to experience the real world once again. As Mark himself was technically an emblem of dark energy, he was able to be manipulated as such. The first time Mark had been manipulated by otherworldly dark beings he had almost let it happen, but being alive already granted him with more willpower and strength than his phantom counterparts and he’d been able to simply ward off the ghost threatening to take over his body easily.

Being necromancers, they definitely knew the age old rules concerning your safety being linked to as an unpredicable place as the spirit world. Never make contact alone, never taunt the spirits and never ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Following these rules has kept the group out of trouble for the most part, and has ensured their safety against the dead. However, ever since they could remember, there has always been one household ghost that despised Jaebum and only Jaebum. It became known to the group as Contempt, and made sure they knew damn well about its dislike of Jaebum. They knew nothing else about this malevolent spirit except that one fact.

Until they became aware that it was a dark energy manipulator, and this was when they knew trouble was headed their way. Contempt would perform harmless but troublesome acts towards Jaebum, like psyching him out on important days, or intentionally placing his items where Jaebum would never find them again. Of course, they have all tried settling this issue through seances, but Contempt was never willing to talk, and what could they do?

It was a helpless feat, but one they weren’t really bothered by until one day Mark woke up feeling very _strange_. Like he was a passenger in his own mind. He was getting up, removing Jackson’s arm from around his body, not even turning around once at Jackson’s complaints, but not by his own accord, typically he spends at least another hour in bed with Jackson after waking up. What was happening? He began trying to retake control of his own body once the shock and confusion wore off, but to no avail. Now, he was walking toward the living room, feeling along the walls and staring at his hands as he clenched and unclenched them. Whatever was inside him was evil, he could just feel it. Mark wasn’t doing this. Mark wasn’t in control. 

However, the imposter was gone almost as soon as they came. With a jolt, Mark comes to, and regains control of his physical body. Without a moments hesitation, he runs back to his room, finding a puzzled Jackson sitting up on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up quickly when Mark returns to the room, “Are you okay? You don’t usually ignore me like that.”

“That wasn’t me.”

-

After a few similar, more alarming cases, it doesn’t take long for the group to realise that this was all the doing of a sprit. Particularly, one with a strong dislike for a certain Im Jaebum. Contempt began to live through Mark, once he couldn’t fight it off anymore. It began terrorising the group of friends every now and then through Mark, but always seemed to hate being in a human body because it left after a short while. The final straw was Jaebum’s attempted murder. 

The following days after Contempt almost suffocated Jaebum to death through Mark were filled with a sticky tension, an unspoken fear of Mark residing within the others. Even in Jackson. Surprisingly, the one person who had every right to fear him, didn’t. Jaebum knew how it felt to be feared, ostracised because of something he couldn’t control, that could mistakenly take the lives of those close to him without him even realising. Jaebum knew how it felt. Jaebum has walked in Mark’s shoes. Jaebum wasn’t going to let Mark go through this alone.

Ground rules were put in place. Simple ones that didn’t require much thinking or effort, but must be followed at all times. Mark and Jaebum were never allowed to be alone together, it just wasn’t safe. Although Mark had become rather skilled at predicting just when he was about to be manipulated, and had almost mastered the art of controlling it, Contempt still could take him by surprise. Never make contact with the malicious spirit, in fear of making the connection stronger. In the case of dark energy manipulation, bonds can build to grow stronger through communication, and the more powerful a bond, the more free you can become with your manipulation powers. Mark had no problem following that one, but it also meant that Mark couldn’t manipulate Contempt back, for fear of opening a sort of portal that couldn’t be resealed.

-

It got really bad, really quick. Mark reached the point where he couldn’t fight it off anymore, and it was taking a toll on him visibly. He was becoming a shell of his previous self, filled with emptiness and guilt put together, and a soul that wasn’t his. They’d tried everything, they’d tried to send Contempt back, tried to find out what about Jaebum irked it so much, they’d tried to reconcile with an irreconcilable spirit. They’d even tried locking Mark up at night, but no matter what, Contempt would always find a way out. 

Jackson had sat on the other side of Mark’s locked door one night, listened to him sob and wail, great agony coming from his cries. It pained Jackson, to be so close but yet so far, to witness the disaster, but be able to do so little. Being the ever loving boyfriend, Jackson had tried to consolidate Mark through the door dividing them, to be met with, “You don’t understand, you can’t trap me here! But God, I wish you fucking could. I don’t want to hurt Jaebum, but I can’t control it anymore.”

Mark’s voice grew quieter as his sentence neared its end. Jackson’s heart broke in half.

“You aren’t Contempt, Mark.”

Jackson’s keen, sharp ears picked up every teardrop that landed on the floor, and heard everytime Mark opened his mouth to speak, but chose not to. Jackson could smell the salt in his tears, but also the heavenly cologne Mark used to love to wear.

He also heard his dejected sigh, before his boyfriend spoke one last time, ever so quietly, “But I might as well be.”

-

#### Bambam (Klepto)

'bæmbæm/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Lifespan control  
3\. Pyrokinesis

_"I can stay this young for as long as I like."_

-

Bambam and Jackson were much alike in the aspect that they like to get in trouble and can’t seem to stay out of it for more than a minute. Quite the opposite to his other trouble maker counterpart, his boyfriend Yugyeom, who only seemed to enjoy causing trouble within the group. Where’s the fun in that, Bambam has asked time and time again, only to receive a “I actually enjoy being alive unlike some people” in response, and well even though Bambam thinks that’s pretty stupid, that it’s more fun to live life on the edge and to appreciate what you have before it’s gone, he can’t argue with that.

Only Bambam saw himself in trouble with his own race more often than the humans. It’s always the jealous ones, he likes to say. The ones who want his money and popularity. There’s not much to Bambam’s story frankly, and the most recent brawl he got into was nothing major compared to his typical fights, because honestly, his attacker was a bit stupid, must have been a newbie. It’s a grave mistake to start with someone the likes of Bambam. 

Walking the streets at night being Bambam himself made you a large target, not only was he totally not afraid of using his powers as freely as he wanted - though arrest could be right around the corner - he was also pretty damn expensive.

His high taste in fashion gets him in more sticky situations than him being a mutant in general, and Bambam has a thing for flaunting what he’s got, powers included. He knows he’s what most people want to have, he’s rich, practically famous, untouchable, has a pretty hot boyfriend and he’s _powerful_. Bambam was damn right powerful in every sense of the word and he revels in the fact that everyone knows he’s unbeatable. No matter how harrowing his situation, Bambam always gets out of it almost unscathed.

Yugyeom was his only true weakness, and Bambam highly doubts anyone will obtain the information Bambam has a hard time admitting himself. Honestly speaking however, Bambam doesn’t think there is anything he wouldn’t sacrifice for his friends, but Yugyeom is a special case. He remembers before they were dating, when they were almost killed by mutant control and containment. They were trapped and it was beginning to look like there was only enough time for one of them to make it out alive, and Bambam was more than willing to be the sacrifice. He loves that man, however much he refuses to admit it.

So when Bambam gets kidnapped for the nth time now, (they should really try something new to spice things up), he almost rolls his eyes. He’s gotten too used to laughing in the face of death. Nothing can kill him at this point. Upon opening his eyes, Bambam is met with the sight of a glass filled with a clear liquid, sitting on a bare wooden table, tinged by the pungent odour only the mutant kind is familiar with. Imperidium.

Bambam had only a hand free, confined everywhere else, but was unfazed, unbothered by the possibly life threatening situation he was in. Facing his captor, looking him dead in the eye, he asks, pouting just for show, “You’re not gonna make me drink this, are you?” 

The man returns Bambams stare with the same intensity before laying his cards down on the table, “Not necessarily,” Bambam’s eyebrows raise curiously, maybe this guy would be some fun after all, “If you make me younger by fifteen years, I’ll consider letting you go.”

This man was mighty proud, Bambam thought to himself, and mighty ignorant to say the least. Was he not aware that Bambam could light this whole place up by just opening the palm of his hand? Nevertheless, he’s always been a fan of a little game, and plays tauntingly into this one, “You know that would make me older right?”

The man shrugs carelessly, dusting Bambam’s inconvenience off of his shoulders. Bambam lives for these moments, when his assailants think they have finally beaten him, he breathes for the confidence that streaks their faces and the way they let their guard down, like Bambam’s now powerless, when in true reality, it’s the exact opposite. No matter how many cages and ropes you confine Bambam within, he will always be stronger. 

Alas, Bambam is bored now, so time is up. His wrist is starting to ache from where the ropes carve into his skin, and he reckons it’s time their little game ended. Beckoning the man towards him, Bambam lays a hand on top of his, shivering at the callous, unclean texture of the man’s hand.

His captor’s stance immediately relaxes, and Bambam fights the smirk that threatens to show through his cold expression. When Bambam’s finished, he takes a look at his work. His assailants hair is now a darker ashy colour, longer and shielding his face, while his face has aged, the beginnings of slight wrinkles starting to come forth. This man was already old anyways, in his mid forties at best, all Bambam did was speed up the process, no one likes waiting anyways. Bambam thought that was rather kind of him too, if he was feeling really cruel, he could have taken his entire life force. There was no way in hell Bambam would add a whole fifteen years to his own age.

The man begins to realise something is wrong, demanding to know what happened to him, that _this isn’t what it’s supposed to feel like_ , and Bambam lets his smile finally show, “Did you feel that? You just got older and I get to look this young and beautiful for another three years.”

His face becomes instantly serious, cold and unsympathetic, and his posture aligns from his slouched position, “Now let me go, before I set this entire place on fire.”

Just for added effect, Bambam opens his palm on his free hand and produces a tiny little flame, but a warning enough. The man then knows he’s been defeated, knows that Bambam probably has countless tricks up his sleeve, knows that Bambam is truly indestructible. 

“You’re really one of the more stupid ones.” Whilst being untied, Bambam stretches his limbs, and chides, “Just a tip, for your next little mission maybe arm yourself, and also, you should have made me drink the Imperidium beforehand, instead of threatening me with it, it weakens my powers enough for you to manipulate them.”

The man’s eyes light up as he looks at the glass of Imperidium, making a move to grab at Bambam, but he simply burns through the final two ties. Disappointing, he wanted to let the guy feel like he had a chance. Creating an orange, burning heart of flames at his fingertips, Bambam blows a teasing kiss.

“Better luck next time!”

-

#### Choi Youngjae (Misfortune)

'jʌŋdʒaɪ/  
_mutant_  
_type: tenebras autem resistis_  
1\. Necromancy  
2\. Deathly clairvoyance  
3\. Force field generation

_"Don’t ask me what I know."_

-

If there’s one thing Youngjae knows about death, it’s that you can’t cheat it. It will always come knocking on your door one way or another, and it will always be sooner if you decide to meddle, never later. Youngjae also knows the sacred rule that comes hand in hand with his deathly power in and out. Never ever tell people the day death will come visit them. No one can know the day they will die, it always leads to early demise.

Youngjae knows this now and knows better than to tell anyone whether their tomorrow is guaranteed, and tries to keep himself from even knowing. Alas, Youngjae was young and inexperienced years ago, and broke this one rule he was never meant to break.

Due to his cheery, extroverted persona, Youngjae had always been graced with a plethora of friends, but there was always that one person who stood out among everybody else. His best friend. It’s natural, there will always be that one person who shines above the rest, that person you can tell everything to, the person you trust with your life. It was around this time when he also discovered his dark power, his deathly clairvoyance. Youngjae wishes so badly it wasn’t him, his best friend, it didn’t _have_ to be him.

They were about sixteen when the ironic, cynical tale, that explains so much to Youngjae’s fear and respect of death occurred. More often than not, they were together at one of their houses, playing games or just simply talking all day. On the unfortunate day the incident happened, it was no different from the usual, Youngjae and his best friend were laying on his bed playing games on his console. His mother had come to check on them a few times, offering food for them though they both knew where to look in case they were hungry. 

A game had gotten too competitive and the boys were now pushing each other over certain in game events. This wasn’t uncommon as they tended to take games way more seriously than they should, days spent ignoring each other if they believed cheating took place, but it was all in good heart, a game inside of a game they liked to play. Youngjae doesn’t remember exactly what happened when _it_ happened. All he knows is that during a little brawl, when Youngjae made contact with his best friend’s arm, a cold air took over his entire body and it was as if he was transported to another world.

Everything was tinted a dark grey, almost black, and the picture in front of his eyes displayed both Youngjae and his best friend on a local street they both knew well. It was a chilling, out of body experience, and Youngjae couldn’t shake the fact that something dreadful was headed their way. The boys had food in their hands, and it seemed as if they were headed home from school. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but the monotone hue of the scene added to Youngjae’s increasing sense of foreboding. Youngjae watched himself check his phone; it was November the second, a whole month from now.

Why was Youngjae seeing this? What was so relevant that he had to see this now? Then it hit him, it’s his final power. Youngjae could only pray it wasn’t what he thought it was. They were now nearing the road they had to cross to get to the stop that took them directly home. It was now. Something was going to happen now.

Youngjae and his best friend begin to laugh at something unintelligible, and it’s here when fear begins to creep up his throat. He watches them take each step after another, and he notices too late. They’ve stepped into the road, and a van is coming directly their way. Youngjae fruitlessly screams at himself and his best friend but his efforts are in vain, because as he expected, he was just a mirage. They couldn’t hear him. 

Something miraculous happens, and in moments Youngjae seems to gain awareness of his surroundings, spots the vehicle and accompanied by a look of horror, leaps out of the way. Similar to a deer caught in light, his best friend stares at Youngjae, who’s already running back into the road that is still bustling with cars, but it’s too late. Both Youngjaes turn away sharply as if they’d been burnt at impact. They react similarly too, falling to the floor simulaniously, as if heavy weights had been tied to their knees bringing them down to the cold floor with a heavy thud. 

Youngjae wakes with a start, sweat encasing his face, as his very real best friend and mother continue shaking him awake. Instantly, Youngjae pulls his best friend into a tight, bone crushing hug, not bothering to give anyone any time to ask any questions. He whispers a muffled, _I’m so glad you’re here_ into his best friend’s plaid flannel, clutching his as if he would disappear any moment. 

After calming down, Youngjae explains what happened to his mother and best friend, who meets him with a sullen, harrowing look. When questioned, his mother simply brushed it off, returning to her joyful caring state, joining his best friend in talking about how incredulous and odd this situation was. Youngjae makes a note to ask about it later.

-

Later comes when his best friend had long since left, and his mother was now doing the dishes that had piled up from the afternoon. At Youngjae’s voice, his mother jolts, spilling water over the edge of the sink. He apologises for causing her such a fright, but wonders why she was so on edge in the first place. Something tells him it was linked to earlier.

“Your friend is going to die soon. In the exact same fashion you saw him die when you fainted.”

Youngjae’s chin drops. His thoughts were instantly a scrambled mess, how was he supposed to intake such news? His mother must be lying, he can’t lose his best fucking friend. The person he grew up with, shared memories with. The person he convinced to cut his hair, the person who convinced him to dye his own. The person who had always been there for him, even on his loneliest days, when the clouds seemed bigger and the rain seemed louder, when the days seemed to drag on for longer but simultaneously pass in minutes. Youngjae’s best friend was his family. What would he do without him?

“What do you mean?” Youngjae was in a terrible state already, tears threatening to spill and words a stuttered mess.

His mother was in a mirrored fashion, face distraught, as she removed her gloves slowly to lean on the counter, “I had always thought it, and now I’ve been proven correct. You’re a deathly clairvoyant, Youngjae. You know when people around you are going to die.”

It’s at this moment when his world shatters into pieces. His best friend was really going to die in a months time, “There must be something I can do, there must be a loophole or _something_. He’s not going to die.”

His mother shakes her head solemnly, “There isn’t. You cannot tell him, Youngjae, he can never find out.”

But this was his best friend, surely he could trust him with anything. However as everything he’s thought was true, he’d come to realise, that you can’t trust anyone with everything, not even yourself.

-

There was no way in hell Youngjae wasn’t going to tell his best friend. It was his own death, he should have the right to know, or at least choose if he wanted to know. Of course he wanted to know, and who was Youngjae to decline him that sort of knowledge. A voice in the back of his mind nags at him however, tells him that he’s making the wrong choice. Youngjae ignores it.

They then make a plan to keep him alive, to cheat death, and if they are still alive by November the third, they’d know they succeeded. They check before crossing roads extra carefully now, and take the long way home that avoids that fated street. October is nearly over, only a couple days left before their goal date. Youngjae still can’t shake the bad feeling he’s had since that day and still treats every day as if it’s their last, because it’s now when he realised that you can’t take life for granted.

Taking the long way home was better than they expected it to be, the longer journey giving them more time to discuss pressing matters, 

“You know, I think I’ve come to peace with death now. Like I don’t mind dying anymore.” Youngjae startles at his best friend’s words, the situation ironically more difficult for him to talk about rather than the true victim. He reaches an arm out to lightly smack his best friend, scolding him to not say things like that. 

Youngjae barely notices when a book falls out of his best friend’s bag, but mindlessly follows him to go collect it from the ground. He realises they are standing in the middle of the road too late, and manages to scramble out of the way, failing to pull his best friend along with him. The look of serenity that his best friend passes is enough to send shivers down Youngjae’s spine.

Youngjae then finds himself lying bruised on the side of a road watching a van hurtle towards his best friend of eight years. It’s the exact same scene from his vision.

But it’s October the twenty third.

-  
-

Their pasts are all tainted with death and darkness, tears and sorrow, and their powers simply enable more despair to come forth. It’s inevitable, being bringers of darkness. However, it’s moments where they make eye contact and burst into bouts of laughter for no reason, when someone wheezes and makes it worse. It’s moments where they’re just in each others space, all doing separate things, but existing together. It’s moments where you see the good in their souls, when Yugyeom put himself through hell to save his friends, when Jaebum risked it all for their safety. 

When everyone laughs at Bambam’s pretentious ranting, but knows he would give it all up for them. When it’s the dead of night, and all is quiet, but Jinyoung and Jaebum’s bodies have tangled their way together. It’s when Mark unconsciously cares for them, habitually fixing their hair or their clothes, when he makes sure Yugyeom is sleeping right when he just can’t fight the demons in his head, when he refuses to be afraid of Jaebum, when he does the best he can to keep his and Jacksons’ relationship afloat. When Jackson acts a fool to keep the atmosphere lively, even when he’s not feeling it himself. When Youngjae yells into Jackson’s sensitive ears for him to retaliate by triggering his faulty force fields. When the kids run through the house arguing and slamming doors just to be caught making out an hour later.

It’s moments like these that define who they are. They know their powers are dangerous, they have fate, life and death all in the palms of their hands and they are bound to cause mayhem at some point, but they aren’t their powers, they aren’t the deaths that have transpired around them. They aren’t the pain they’ve caused and received.

They aren’t _evil_.

**Author's Note:**

> End notes:
> 
> And that is the end!! 
> 
> I really really really enjoyed making this spinoff and I’m so proud of how it turned out! It’s not perfect but I still enjoyed writing it immensely. There are some fucked up, unresolved topics dealt with in this, but I think it’s part of the complex beauty of them as a group of young individuals who are hated by society, who aren’t always driven by the good, ‘morally correct’ path.
> 
> Also pls read the main story of this universe, This isn’t freedom, it’s a svt au.
> 
> Clearing up misconceptions:
> 
> \- no they are not related  
> \- All mutants are hated but bringers of darkness are hated more  
> \- (I’ll clear up more if anyone is confused abt anything!!)


End file.
